


Whiskey Kiss

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Fingering, Good Whiskey, Kinda Dominant Tom, Orgasms, slightly dub-con?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom’s come into possession of a particularly fine bottle of liquor, which he shares with a woman he considers a close friend, but the whiskey makes her more than that - much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Something that came to mind while indulging in my own whiskey kiss.
> 
> :)

Her first swallow hit her like a ton of velvet-covered bricks, eyes closing automatically, head falling back as the sweet, buttery, liquid smoke nipped down the back of her throat and burned so good all the way down, that particular heady, musky undertone coming to the fore as she slowly breathed out the fumes of just that one, potent sip.

"Goddamn, that's so good my nipples are hard!" she groaned from her somewhat awkward position, not necessarily intending the confession to be sexual.

The man who had handed her the whiskey glass of amber liquid - neat, as all good whiskey should be appreciated - took a silent step towards her that she didn't even notice, she was so involved in how the nectar tasted and how it immediately relaxed parts of her that were perpetually tense, some of which probably should have stayed that way.

She was totally unprepared to feel his lips on hers - the whiskey's musk quickly and quietly replaced by his own undeniably masculine scent - leather, cologne and bald, authoritative male - as he licked the insides of her mouth so that she could taste the whiskey on his tongue and him at the same time.

They'd never come anywhere near kissing before. They'd been close but platonic friends to this point, and Tom didn't necessarily want to upset that applecart, but there was no way he could ignore the sensual way she'd thrown her head back like that, as if completely surrendering herself to the sensuality of the experience. He couldn't keep his eyes off her as hers drifted shut and he watched her swallow her sip down with that groaned confession that had him chafing against the constrictions of his tight jeans, so instantaneously, painfully hard and caught in the moment himself that it made him not care if she slapped him or grew indignant or angry at him for kissing her.

He simply had to - there was no choice for him about it, either.

But she did none of that, instead melting against him within the hard circle of his arms, and he made so bold as to discover for himself if what she'd said was true - and found it was as his broad palm settled over her breast. He could even feel it through the sweater she was wearing, and couldn't help but brush those taut peaks with his fingertips, coaxing it into even further prominence, watching the pleasure he was creating within her revealed - wholly unfiltered - as it flowed over her, played out as clear as day in her expressions, so much so that the hand that had been caressing her breasts began to move down her body as he shifted just slightly, spreading his legs a little more than they had been already and guiding her to arch herself even further back, over his strong arm.

He reached for an found the hem of her tantalizingly soft sweater, pushing it up unhurriedly, listening carefully for sounds of distress from her about what he was doing, hearing nothing but her labored breath and soft gasp as her breasts were revealed to him, but he did not touch immediately, simply leaving them exposed to his hungry eyes and, once, but only once each, his whiskied and watery mouth.

His fingers continued their journey southward, to the button of her jeans, as he lifted his head from her nearest rosy peak, leaving it considerably darkened and moist in his wake, and he watched her as he removed that small obstacle as well as lowering the zipper beneath it, seeing the waterfall of her hair ebb and flow as she shook her head, but nothing came from her mouth beyond the sharp hiss of her breath when he allowed his fingers to slip beneath the waistband he had loosened, and then the smaller, more defenseless one of the lacy edge of her panties.

He didn't stop until he held all of her in his hand, until she was clutching at his shoulder with one hand, small fingers biting into his flesh as surely as he tenderly explored that which he had just discovered, touching her everywhere at first, as if that would mark her indelibly as his, gently but boldly still, seeking even more obvious evidence of how she was feeling about what he was doing to her, and finding that - and more.

More than enough to finish what he'd started, more than he'd dared to hope, fingers as light and delicate as butterfly wings on that tiny pearl his fingers kept ruthlessly exposed at first, listening carefully, watching attentively, yearning to learn her most intimate secrets, to know those things about her that she hadn't yet shared with him - to reveal and commit to memory what would make her beg him for release, then make her writhe and scream as he gave in to her pleas.

He almost smiled down at her - she was so responsive, eyes still closed, neck arched, head moving agitatedly back and forth, still grasping his shoulder as if it was a lifeline while he stroked her more knowingly than he ought to, since this was the first time he'd touched her like this.

But it was him, and she'd wanted him since before she'd met him, and there was no defense for her against what he was doing to her. She could feel what was happening - embarrassingly quickly - and knew he wouldn't stop. She could see it in his eyes the precious few times she was able to open hers and focus on his. He was going to make her cum, and, from the look on his face, he was going to enjoy the ever loving fuck out of it as he did it.

Somehow Tom must've sensed just how close she was because he made another quick adjustment in his stance, tightening his arm around her so she would feel more supported - and less free to try to stop him - as he dragged slippery fingers over that tiny kernel more and more quickly, his eyes locked on her as she began to move more frantically but he held her fast, almost grimacing as he felt her body stiffen in his embrace, his body drinking in the first orgasmic wails he'd ever driven her to, so involved in her pleasure and enjoyment that he very nearly found himself joining her in his own.

She'd told him before that she was loud at that delicate moment, and she hadn't been exaggerating. At one point, halfway through her second peak, she turned her head away from him and moved to put her other hand over her mouth, feeling terribly embarrassed at how it ran away with her at times like this.

But then she heard his sharp, "No!", opening her eyes to look up at him, seeing the raw desire there, unable to help but respond to it and the dominant yet loving expression on his face.

"I want to hear all of it. I want to hear every note of your ecstasy. I won't have you hiding any part of it from me."

And she didn't. She couldn't, keeping her eyes on his through the symphony of groans and whimpers and out and out growls.

At first she didn't even notice - because he didn't miss a beat with that torturous hand of his - that the sights and sounds of her bliss had weakened him and he'd had to sink to his knees, that she was sprawled over his legs, until, near the end but not quite at it yet, he took even further control of her body, lifting her up to straddle the cock he'd pulled out from his own pants, feeling her already wobbly legs lose what little strength they had as she slipped excruciatingly slowly down onto him, and he had to battle with his self-control to keep from cumming right then and there.

But he managed not to - somehow.

Instead, he wove his fingers with hers, holding her down on him, feeling the ends of that luxurious mane of hair fluttering over his upper thighs and balls every time she moved her head, and then - because he couldn't stand another minute of it - could remain still not one second longer - he began to arch his hips, thrusting into her unbelievable tightness, almost unable to stand how good it felt to do that - to know and claim her more completely than he ever had before.

The potency of it inflamed him almost beyond bearing.

Tom reached up and grabbed her upper arms, just above the elbow, pulling her even further down onto him, not letting her escape any part of his possession, driving himself deeply into her - all the way, each time, until she came apart on top of him, trying to escape his hold but not coordinatedly, looking for some easement of the acute sensations he was subjecting her to, but there was no way of getting away from them - nothing to soothe the ache but the loud, plaintive cry of his name as she convulsed helplessly around him.

He continued to fuck her, splitting her open around him with each stroke, until - when he was very close - he reached up and thrusts the fingers of one hand into her hair, right at her scalp, the other holding her hip as he lost himself in her completely, screaming her name repeatedly, like a fervent prayer.

Afterwards, they collapsed together in a heap of arms and legs, both panting as if they'd run a marathon.

She practically had to claw her way up his chest to kiss him gently, whispering, "Jesus Christ, I don't think I'm going to survive our second sip of that stuff!!"

He chuckled softly. "I think I'll have to lay in a huge supply of it." He patted her ass possessively. "You know, for reasons."


End file.
